Dream of Winning
by gh0st bones
Summary: Two years after the death of a Soc and a Greaser, things on the east side are harder than they've ever been. They're different. People are different. And it feels like at any second it's going to all blow up in their faces.
1. Prologue

_One day we'll lose the war  
but 'til then we will dream of winning_

At half past seven the moving truck pulled up in front of the desolate faded blue Victorian at the end of the dirt road just down past Maple Lane. Crows used the dark roof mostly as a perch during the night, echoing calls across the entire east side. The loud rumble of the U-Haul and its screeching brakes scared them off, a flurry of wings and clever eyes in the starry sky.

"Creepy," Pam breathed, her face pressed up against the window of the station wagon trailing along in the moving truck's wake. "I bet someone died in the basement."

"No they didn't!" Hanna screeched, and forty-six-year-old Margaret Rainey reached back to smack her eldest daughter in the knee.

"Don't scare your sister like that, what's wrong with you?" They'd been driving for two days, only stopping to spend a few hours in a motel or grab a bite from Dairy Queen. "It was a fair price, and _no one has died in it_." Her grey-streaked hair was waving out of the severe bun it was in just sixty miles ago.

Margaret pulled the car to a stop in the driveway and three girls tumbled out of the backseat. Their brother pulled the parking break inside the cab of the truck and hopped out too, to meet his mother around the back.

"Too late to unload now," he said. "Maybe just the beds?"

"No," Margaret said, shaking her tired head. "We'll get it all inside tonight. If I bring the truck back tomorrow before eight we won't have to pay for another day."

"We should have just gotten a moving company –"

"Don't start, Daniel. You know we couldn't afford –"

Daniel grabbed the keys from his mother's hand. "We'll start tonight then."

**x x x**

At five o'clock in the morning Margaret Rainey left for work at the food packaging factory on the outskirts of Tulsa. Daniel left not long after with a twenty dollar bill in his wallet to pick up groceries with, and drop off the U-Haul truck before they were charged a whole extra day, exactly what his mother had been trying to avoid.

Emma hadn't slept a wink. She laid in her bed all night, her first night in her very own bedroom without Pam and Hanna in it. All three girls had bedrooms on the second floor, along with a large bathroom and a room with a television set and two desks for homework from school. The attic had been turned into Daniel's own private apartment, and the ground floor was Margaret and the kitchen and living room, another full bathroom, and a door to the shed in the backyard. The unfinished basement was storage.

The house was massive, but it was cold and lonely and in desperate need of a cleaning. The hardwood floors were dusty and scraped, the walls stained, windows grimy. The stairs creaked and the walls groaned and it sounded like something was living in the family room brick fireplace. Hung from the brick was a family portrait, one they had taken only months before the move. It had been expensive, but Grandma Rainey had insisted.

They looked like a ragtag group. Emma examined it carefully after getting out of bed with the sunrise and pouring herself a bowl of corn flakes without milk. Mom and Daniel looked identical, with strong noses and strong jaws. Daddy Rainey had been built of heavy Hungarian stock according to Margaret. He died only a few weeks after Daniel was born.

Then Pam, who was fair and blonde and looked like a pin-up model with a tiny waist and a huge chest. She was as tall as mom and her nose was a little crooked, but it suited her. Her eyes were large and green and her last name was Morgan, who was the man that had come fleetingly into Margaret's life in California, then left just as quickly once the doctor confirmed a pregnancy.

Then there was Emma, with her wildly curly brown hair and catlike eyes, tan skin and just a little cleft in her round chin. She looked starved thin and tan as anything next to big sister Pam. Almost exotic. The type of girl they threw pencils at in elementary school and called Spic and Mexican, even though she was a Harris and very much Spanish.

Little Hanna's father was a preacher from a Baptist church in Sacramento. He was tall and angry and had the same dirty blonde curls and dark brown eyes that Hanna had, but she was all soft and lithe like a little dancer. Margaret and Father Jack Piper had stayed together for five of Hanna's seven – almost eight – years before they pulled Hanna out of ballet class and took off for Malibu.

And then Arlington, Texas. And then six different cities until Tulsa. Eight different schools. Just the thought of it made Emma's stomach clench, and she poured the rest of the cereal out the back door into a mud puddle so she wouldn't get smacked for wasting food.


	2. Chapter One

Outside the faded red backdoors of the Tulsa middle school, a small white girl with a lingering summer tan held a cigarette between ruby red lips. A chill breeze rolled over her, cooling the sun still beating down on top of her dark hair. Her brothers both had black hair, but hers had started out dirty blonde at birth and by now was only a medium chestnut colour. It grew fast, too, because last year someone had chopped it short and it was already to her chest and loosely curly.

A bell rang loud over her head. She flinched, took a last drag off the Marlboro and stubbed it out with the toe of her high heeled boot on the blacktop. The watch on her wrist – silver, studded with fake diamonds, lifted from a cheap jewellery shop on Fifth – said it was a minute past three o'clock.

Angela Shepard tugged at the leather micro miniskirt moulded around her well-endowed butt, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and strutted around the grey brick building to the front doors where kids were streaming out in the hundreds, headed for cars or bikes or the yellow school busses lined up along the cement blockades. She'd skipped her last class to come here. What the hell did she need algebra for, anyway?

The two girls she was looking for were standing together under the awning over the gymnasium's outdoor entrance. One she had known since she was four years old; the other she met over the summer at the drive-in. They were both wearing the same pleated black skirts and white blouses with hunter green sweater vests that the school had implemented last year to try and cut down on social class warfare since that Soc kid and Johnny Cade were killed two years ago.

Everyone equal, just like they were doing for the blacks. Or something like that.

"Angela!" Annie called, waving her over. "We didn't think you'd be here 'til later."

"I skipped off math," Angela said breezily. She was a year older than the two of them, and she had to act like it.

Emma was absolutely enthralled with Angela Shepard. Annie had known her for years and was used to her bad girl image and her tough family, but Emma had never met a girl like that. They weren't made this way back in California, at least not that she'd ever gotten to meet. This was the type of girl that Daniel told her not to hang around with. He said her family was bad news, but he only knew whatever his supervisor Darrel Curtis told him, so she took it with a grain of salt.

"Are we going to Jack's or what?" Angela asked, looking at them expectantly.

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. "I can't. I have to go home first."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Okay. Are you still coming tonight?"

Tonight was Angela's brother's party. They threw a party any time one of the Shepard gang got out of prison, and tonight it was Curly.

"Yeah, of course," Annie answered for the both of them. "My brother's gonna give us a ride."

"See you tonight then," Angela said, grabbing Annie's wrist and tugging her along towards the diner just down the road. Annie waved goodbye, looking a bit apologetic that she had to leave so soon. They usually walked home together.

Emma gave her a wave and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

The walk home was short but slow. Emma dragged her Mary Janes along the sidewalk, held her book bag in her hand instead of slinging it across her shoulder. It was warm for September but not quite an Indian summer this year; the wind playing with the hem of her skirt was cool on her bare thighs. Leaves rustled in the trees but weren't threatening to fall yet. They wouldn't until October at least.

"Man, Will Rogers ought to get uniforms."

By now Emma didn't even need to turn around to know that New York drawl, but she did anyway to watch Dallas Winston hop off the front steps of a house that wasn't his. Probably not Sylvia's either, because she was married off already to a boy who'd gotten her pregnant – that was the story, anyway. Dally had a new girl every other week lately.

"You'd have to wear slacks then," Emma retorted, eyeing the faded blue denim Dally had on to match his black t-shirt and jean jacket.

Dallas shook his head. "Nah. I dropped. I ain't gonna go for longer than I gotta."

"You haven't graduated yet, have you?"

Dallas slung his arm across Emma's shoulders like a big brother. "I'm twenty years old in November, kid. I'm done with that shit."

Emma shrugged his arm off. "I dunno where Pam is."

"I don't give a shit about where Pam is."

That made Emma smile. "Like hell you don't." Pam was the only girl who wouldn't go to bed with Dally Winston the first night he took her out, and that was a problem for him, because he didn't like to spend too long on just one girl.

Dallas walked with her all the way to the Curtis house, then he ruffled her wild curls and said goodbye. "Stop by tonight. Sodapop came up with his own version of poker."

"I will." She wouldn't. Maybe Saturday night.

At the corner she turned onto the dirt road that led up to the Victorian. The outside still needed a paint job, but they'd all pitched in and gotten the inside cleaned up. The girls even each got to paint their own bedrooms because the man at the hardware store had been so charmed by Hanna that he'd given Margaret half off on paint. Emma picked mauve.

The station wagon was in the driveway, which meant that Margaret had skipped work again. Daniel's truck was gone; at least he was out, roofing houses and putting on siding and eaves and installing windows and doors.

Emma stopped on the porch to smoke a quick half of a cigarette before going inside. Daniel always smoked in his room – but he smoked weed, even though everyone told him it was a hippie thing to do and no one really respected it – and Pam would strike a smoke right in the living room watching nighttime TV. But mother didn't know Emma smoked yet and she wanted to keep it that way, at least for now.

The house smelled like old cooked meat when she shut the door behind her. Hanna was sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet trying to sound out words from an old Encyclopedia that was left behind in the basement when they moved in.

"Where's mum?"

Hanna didn't even bother looking up. "She's in her bedroom."

Emma tip-toed down the hallway, but she didn't have to bother. Margaret's bedroom door was wide open, showcasing her passed out on the bed with her skirt hiked up around her thighs. Her hair was a mess around her pale, lined face. There was a bottle of whiskey in her hand and a puddle of puke on the floor, along with a lighter and a spoon. She'd probably managed to hide the rest before Hanna got home from school; before passing out cold.

She closed the door, feeling like being sick herself.

Upstairs Pam's bedroom door was open too, which meant that she wasn't home. Emma changed out of her uniform into a pair of tight black jeans and a bright blue babydoll tank top with lace on the bottom.

"Did you do your homework?" Emma called, coming back down the stairs.

"No. I will."

"Okay. Leave mum alone. She's napping."

Hanna sighed audibly. "I know what she's doing."

"When Pam gets home, tell her Dallas Winston was asking about her."

This time Hanna looked up at her sister standing awkwardly at the front door. "You can go. It's okay."

Maybe she'd stop by the Curtis house before going to find Angela and Annie. They were probably already gone from Jack's anyway. Annie would be home soon to have dinner, and then Two-Bit would drive them over to the Shepard house because he didn't seem to care too much about where his sister went or who she was with, as long as it wasn't a Soc or a Brumley. Daniel would have a fit, but probably no one would tell him.

The Curtis house was loud when she walked in – they never locked their front door and she learned quickly that no one heard you when you knocked. The radio was on along with the television set, and in the kitchen a pot sounded like it was boiling over onto the element. She could hear Ponyboy swearing a blue streak over it and dishes clattering.

Steve and Sodapop were sitting on either side of the dark wood coffee table playing a game of Go Fish, while Dallas watched on with a cigarette in his hand. He looked up when Emma closed the door behind her.

"Long time, no see," he joked. He was in a better mood lately. She remembered the first time she met him – he'd almost decked her in the face, then said he only didn't because she was a kid, and a girl at that.

Sodapop and Steve looked up from their game, and Soda grinned the famous grin that got all the girls to fill up at his station. "Emma!"

"I'm not staying long," she said, sitting down on the couch beside Dallas. "Just wanted to see what y'all were up to."

"You're goin' to Shepard's tonight, ain't ya," Steve accused. Emma shrugged, and he went on, "You know you shouldn't. Bad shit always happens at Shepard's."

Ponyboy poked his head out from the kitchen. "Are you goin' with Annie?"

"Yeah. She said Two-Bit'll drive us."

Pony shook his head, coming all the way into the living room, leaving a mess in the kitchen behind him. "Doubt that. Last I heard she was gonna get grounded if she was even caught hangin' around Angela Shepard anymore."

"Well then you'll drive us," Emma said happily. "You and Curly are friends anyway, right?"

"I only got my permit. I can't –"

"I'll take you kids," Dally offered. "I'm goin' anyway. I can pick you two up at ten."

"You just wanna see Pam," Emma smirked, then ducked out of the way of Dallas' grabbing hand. She rolled off the couch and sprung towards the door. "Thanks Dally! See ya!"

"You're gonna get your head beat one of these days," she heard Dallas yell before she let the door swing shut behind her. She was headed for downtown now. Hopefully she could find Annie and tell her the new plan, and warn her about what Ponyboy said.


	3. Chapter Two

Annie was sucking down cigarettes like they were candies, pacing back and forth with an incredulous scowl on her face. She was still in her school uniform, with her rust-coloured hair in a tight ponytail that pulled her bangs back over the top of her head.

"I can't _believe_ him!" she shouted, her voice echoing across Emma's backyard. "He's not my _mother_, how can he ground me?" Her fists were clenching and unclenching, almost crushing the end of the cigarette.

Pam was leaning up against the wooden railing. "Why don't you just go anyway?"

That cooled Annie down a little. She slumped down into an old deck chair. "Because he'll tell my mum, an' then the shit will hit the fan. He never used to be like this."

Emma hadn't caught them in time. She found them in the elementary school park, Angela slinking away while Two-Bit hollered at Annie while she tried to shout back but couldn't think of what to say. Angela made sure that Emma was still coming before she disappeared, and left Emma to take Annie home while Two-Bit drove off, probably to chase down a drink.

"Can we go find you an outfit?" Annie asked after a moment of silence, probably lamenting who her big brother was before Emma had met him.

"_Yes_!" Pam praised, throwing up her arms.

"You're not invited," Emma joked, taking in the white pleather micro mini and sleek silver-green halter top that stopped about an inch below her breasts. She was wearing a thick silver ring on her finger too, and everyone knew that ring as Dally's ring.

Pam had the grace to laugh. "That's fine. I'm out of here anyway. I gotta meet some people."

**x x x**

At quarter to ten Emma click-clacked down the front steps in high heeled black Oxfords to walk Annie to the end of the street. It was dark out by now, the streetlights dim and mostly broken out on this side of town, and the bushes and trees rustled ominously around them.

She was still in the same black jeans from earlier, but they'd switched out her tank top for a tight white long-sleeved crop top. Her stomach was flat, tanned, and completely bare, with hip bones poking out and ribs almost countable.

"You ought to eat more," Annie said when Emma pulled on the shirt for the first time in front of her friend. "You look starved."

Emma had placed her hands over her stomach protectively and said, "I just don't have curves."

Her bangs were teased back into a sleek poof on top of her head, but the rest was left to fall in wild curls. Her makeup was light, with white in the inner corner and a winged eyeliner on the outer corner, which just made her eyes look longer and bigger and browner than usual.

"I'm so jealous," Annie sighed, kicking at rocks on the ground with her Mary Janes. "You look so good!"

"There'll be another party next weekend," Emma placated. "Shepards are in an' out of jail every day."

They hugged at the end of the road, and Annie went left, while Emma turned right. The Curtis house was right on the corner. Dallas had said he'd pick her up at her house at ten, but it was likely he'd wandered back there to see who else was coming with him, since everyone gathered at the Curtis house. It was like home base in a huge game of war.

Besides, Daniel was home and he wouldn't take "none of your business" as an answer for what she was all dressed up for. Pam was already gone so she couldn't take any of the flak, and Hanna was in bed by nine. God knew where Margaret was. She left the house after waking up and showering around dinnertime and left without a word, the bottle still in her hand. She'd probably taken it into the shower with her, too.

The Curtis house was fuller now than it was before, but somehow quieter. People were talking and making noise, and the television was on to some late night talk show, but the energy just wasn't there. It was almost too tense.

Dallas was there, as expected, looking exactly the same as he had earlier. Sodapop and Steve had cleaned up from their grease-stained work uniforms, so probably they were tagging along too, or had their own dates. Steve was seeing this girl Evie, and apparently they'd been together almost longer than anyone could remember. Sodapop was still playing the field carefully since his last girl left.

Two-Bit was watching the show with Ponyboy, but he scowled at Emma when she walked in. "Can't believe anyone's lettin' you go there too. If I was your brother…"

"Take it up with Dan then," Emma snapped. Instead he just lit a cigarette and leaned back, looking angry. She really didn't like him. Annie said he used to do nothing but tell jokes and laugh and get drunk and cheat at pool, but now he was grouchy all the time. She said it was because of what happened a couple years back, but Emma was too nervous to ask for details. She just tried to avoid him instead.

Ponyboy was stretched out on the floor by the hallway, doing his homework. Emma went to flop on the floor in front of his textbook.

"You're not coming?"

Ponyboy shook his head. "I got all this to do." He was up a grade in school, graduating in June in fact. Emma wasn't surprised, all the time he spent on homework. It was like he never went anywhere fun.

"Well we'll make sure you come to the next one," she promised. Then she winked and said in a whisper, "'cause we'll make sure Annie's there too."

Ponyboy blushed.

"I gotta go, Evie's waitin'," Steve announced, hugging Sodapop goodbye. Most men wouldn't hug another man unless they were gay or hippies, but Soda and Steve didn't seem to care, and no one else did either. They were brothers – or might as well have been. With them it felt no weirder than kissing Hanna goodnight on the lips.

Dallas stood up and stretched out. "We might as well go too. You comin', Sodapop?"

Sodapop shook his head. "I'm goin' with Steve. Evie's cousin's around from New York. Real nice lookin' girl." He winked. "I'm hopin' she's gonna wanna come too."

Dally slapped him on the back. Emma took that as her cue to get up off the floor and follow him out the door, waving goodbye to everyone inside as she went.

Ponyboy called, "be careful, Em." She didn't much like his tone of voice. It made her stomach crawl. But she said, "I always am," and he smiled because that's what she always said – and she always was.

Dallas had a real nice T-Bird with an engine that roared when he started it up. He didn't have a real license but he had an ID, and he said he'd been driving since he was a kid so Emma wasn't worried. A lot of people around here didn't get their permits and licenses on time because the fees were so expensive just to go and take the test. Pam had her permit from California but she never drove because Margaret didn't trust her with the car.

"You look like this chick I knew," Dallas said without looking at her when they were half way down the road. It had been quiet in the car until then, comfortable, and the heat was on. "But … younger. And darker." Dally wasn't so good with words. "She's at Brown."

_Rhode Island_, Emma thought. _Cool. Did you date her?_ But she wasn't going to ask out loud and he didn't look like he was going to tell her either.

It was darker and colder when they got to Angela's house. The front door was open and people spilled out onto the lawn, drunk and disorderly but no one would phone the police in this neighbourhood, not unless they heard gunshots. The air hit Emma's bare skin like a shockwave, sending an eruption of goosebumps up her back and neck. Dallas disappeared as soon as they reached the front door, leaving Emma all alone.

The crowd was thick and it was humid inside. Bodies writhed to loud rough music and it smelled like sweat and cigarette smoke. The bathroom door at the end of the hall was open and for a few seconds Emma watched a couple girls snort powder off the lid of the toilet tank before moving on to the kitchen. People stumbled into her and moved on without a word; a thirty-something Greaser leaned into his buddy's ear just to shout loud enough for anyone listening to hear, "fuckin' spics," and stared right at her.

At her shoulder Angela appeared. "You got a goddamn problem, buddy?" she yelled at the guy. She was clearly completely trashed and had two dark bottles in her hands, one of which she passed onto Emma.

When the old guy didn't reply Angela grabbed Emma by the wrist and tugged her away. "Fuckin' bullshit, man." Then she smiled and took a swig of whatever was in her bottle. "I'm glad you made it! How'd you get here?"

"Dally."

Angela winked. "Oh. Isn't he seeing your sister?"

"I guess. She has his ring. He just gave me a lift."

Angela tapped the bottom of the glass with a long, black fingernail. "Drink up!"

Emma took a small test sip and cringed. It tasted like beer mixed with vodka and filled her mouth with the taste of yeast and rubbing alcohol.

"Good, right?"

She took another sip. "Yeah. Great."

Emma tagged along with Angela for a little while, taking small drinks and making small talk with people she had never seen before. Fleetingly she witnessed Dallas and Pam making out on an armchair, but Angela quickly steered her the opposite direction to where her brother Tim was tapping a keg.

Over the noise of the crowd of people pushing in to fill their cups, Angela managed to shout, "Tim! Tim, this is Emma Harris."

Tim looked her up and down, gave an unsettling Cheshire Cat grin, and shook her hand tight. Something was spelled out on his knuckles but he put his hands down too fast for her to read and said, "Glad you could make it, Emma Harris."

By now Angela had disappeared. Emma whipped her head around left and right, trying to see over the tall crowd to find the gold paper crown Angela had perched on her head. But it was gone.

Tim took her half-empty bottle and put a red plastic cup in her hand. Then he finished her drink for her. "This is fuckin' disgusting."

The beer in her new cup was pure and cheap and tasted a little better on her tongue. Her head was heavy and fuzzy, and probably she would have finished the mix if Tim hadn't taken it because it was starting to taste not too bad. Tim slung an arm over her shoulder and she walked with him out into the backyard. Fewer people were here and they were able to sit down on the grey wooden platform that masqueraded as a six-inch-high back porch. Emma shivered and Tim pulled off his hooded sweatshirt and motioned for her to set her cup down so he could help her pull it over her head. It smelled like deodorant and cigarettes and something that was either blood or just the way Tim Shepard smelled, which could have been the same thing.

He had a white t-shirt on underneath the sweater, and there were green and black tattoos snaking all the way up from his wrists, disappearing under the sleeves. Tim had a scar on his face that cut through his eyebrow, and eyes the colour of a raging navy sea, even darker than Angela's.

Tim lit a smoke and shared it with her.

"You're Pam Morgan's little sister, ain't you?"

Emma nodded. "Did Dally tell you that?"

"Didn't need to. You're pretty just like her."

Emma snorted. "We don't look a thing alike. All we have in common is a mum."

He was studying her while she moved and talked, every breath she took he watched. She tried to look back but his gaze was too intense and she flitted between his face and the cigarette when he passed it over. He looked a lot like Angela but older – obviously – and rough. Dark. His hair was black and curly, and she'd never met their brother but apparently he looked just like them too.

She wondered where Angela went, anyway. And if Steve and Sodapop and Evie and her cousin were going to show up – or maybe they were already there, inside somewhere, lost in the crowd while Emma took the last dizzying drag from the Camel.

All of a sudden Emma felt the air shift; the mood was dark. Glass broke inside and people were shouting now, angry, and over their noise was Dallas Winston almost screaming cuss words and threats. Someone was yelling back and Pam screamed. Both Tim and Emma leapt onto their feet and ran to the screen door; Tim got in first and people parted to let the gang leader pass, leaving a trail for Emma to easily follow in.

He put his arm out to stop her when she reached the middle of the circle, like he'd known all along she was following. He grabbed her, pulled her towards him, held the back of her neck while using the other hand to shove someone else away. What had originally been, Emma was witnessing, Dallas and – she assumed, by his looks – the other Shepard brother Curly having a one-on-one in the living room with Pam trying to get between them, tears and mascara tracking her face was now turning into a full out rumble in the Shepard's little rancher.

"I'm sorry, Dally," Pam was screeching, grabbing at the back of his jacket. Her clothes and hair were a mess and Curly didn't have a shirt on, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what Dallas may have walked in on through the bedroom door hanging askew off a hinge in the hallway. "Stop it, stop it!"

Dallas pushed her away, then zeroed in on Emma. He threw a few more punches while the crowd jostled, while Tim held her away from the men beginning to toss fists at each other and girls starting to cat-call, then Dally strode over and grabbed Emma's arm.

"We're going," he said, his fingertips digging into her skin. Tim let her go immediately, watched for only a moment before going towards his brother, shouting, "What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"Ow, Dallas!" Emma tried to pry his hand off her, stumbling drunkenly in his wake. Her head was now so stuffed full of clouds she could barely see straight. She hadn't felt it while she was sitting down. "Dallas, that hurts!"

He heard her, but he didn't let go until they were at the car. No one was on the lawn now, not unless they were pulling on jackets and jingling car keys and getting the hell out of here, just like Emma and Dally were. She wondered absently how much he'd had to drink tonight but she was getting in the car anyway, letting him throw the door shut behind her and wrench his own open.

The T-Bird peeled out of the driveway and onto the road, and Emma was too scared to ask a thing. She'd never seen Dallas' face look so dark, his white-blonde hair a mess because he never greased it, his eyes flaming. He was handsome alright, out of the awkward teenage years and flourishing in impending adulthood. He also looked like he could kill someone, and she wasn't itching to be that someone.

Dallas didn't take her home. Instead they drove to an empty parking lot somewhere in town and killed the engine.

Then he rounded on her. "What the hell were you doing with Tim fuckin' Shepard?" he demanded. "What in the almighty fuckin' hell made you think that was a good idea?"

"We were just talking!" Emma shouted back. She knew the best way to talk to an angry person was to keep calm, because then they calmed down too, but there was something about Dallas Winston that just made her want to scream. "What's it to you? What I do isn't any of your business!"

He looked ready to deck her. "Well I don't see anyone else carin' much about what happens to you."

That one hurt. Emma sunk back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling.

"Aw, shit, kid." Dallas seemed to deflate in the driver's seat. He turned the car back on and swung a left onto Oak, heading towards Maple and her little dirt road lane. He rubbed at his forehead and the bridge of his nose while he drove, and when they got to her house he pulled all the way up behind the station wagon. When he leaned across her to open the door, radiating heat onto her skin and making her jump a little, she saw that his ring was still gone.

She didn't say thanks. She couldn't say anything, just wipe at her eyes – her makeup was probably running too, but it wouldn't look anywhere near as glamorous as Pam's – and unbuckle her seatbelt.

Dallas looked like he wanted to stop her and say something. But he didn't, and she shut the door and stood still until he backed out and drove off. She still had Tim's sweater on, and she snuggled deep into it, sleeves almost all the way over her thin fingers, until Daniel's bedroom light flickered on at four o'clock for work.


	4. Chapter Three

Sorry about the delay. My computer has been glitching very badly so I was unable to finish writing a chapter and get it up. So this chapter is kind of shit and ends really weird and abruptly, but I thought I ought to throw something out here before anyone thought I had ditched out. If there anyone even reading this ...

* * *

Morning sun was better than anything. Emma tugged the white plush wingback chair from the upstairs office room out through the double French doors onto the creaky balcony. According to Margaret this was a steal, because most Victorian houses didn't have balconies like this, which just screamed poor architectural planning to Emma. But it was nice and the sun would shine directly on it while it rose, casting a bright yellow glow over her face and warm mug of peppermint tea.

She could lean back in the chair, close her eyes and relax in the flame red that burst through her eyelids. She wasn't tired. She hadn't even gone to bed yet.

Between her fingers a cigarette burned but she hadn't had more than a couple drags on it since she lit it five minutes ago, and it was already ashed halfway down. The yellow end was resting lightly against the sleeve of Tim's sweater she was still wearing. Her makeup was half wiped off, smudged under her bloodshot eyes.

There would be a hangover soon. The back of her neck was already starting to ache, but for the most part she was still buzzed.

In her book bag on one of the desks in the study was homework pages from math and science, and one chapter of required reading for English. She also had to fill out a budgeting journal for a personal planning class, and for the school newspaper she was meant to have a comic strip on how it was important to keep the school hallways clean.

"Hanna!" Emma shouted through the open balcony doors. There was enough commotion in the house – Margaret in the kitchen cooking breakfast, Pam singing loudly to records in her bedroom – that there was no way Hanna was still asleep.

The little girl turned up at the door almost instantly. "What?" She didn't look bothered. Probably she hadn't been doing anything but waiting for mother to call for pancakes.

"Can you dig my book out of my bag?" She could at least read a chapter while she was out there. Maybe it would bore her enough that she could crawl into bed and sleep Saturday away entirely.

Hanna obeyed. "Whose sweater is that?" she asked when she handed the ratty paperback over. "It's not yours."

"It's a friend's, I borrowed it last night and I forgot to give it back."

"You stink. Like beer."

Emma noogied the top of Hanna's head. "Get out of here, will ya?"

**x x x**

Ponyboy showed up around lunch time. He had a pocket full of nickels so Emma brushed her teeth, washed her face, changed into blue jeans and a warm knit sweater, and followed him out the door. The sun was shining and the wind had died down and it felt good on her freshly washed face. She pulled a hair tie out of her pocket to bundle her hair up into a messy bun so she could feel it on her neck, too. She could faintly still smell the party last night on her and wished that she'd thought of spritzing on perfume before leaving the house.

"How was the party?" Ponyboy asked absently, watching her from the corner of his eye. She didn't like his tone, like he already knew exactly what she would say. Or would leave out.

"It was weird," Emma admitted. "I had a drink with Tim Shepard and Dally fought his brother 'cause he was sleeping with Pam or something. Then Dally took me home."

"Tim Shepard is bad news," Ponyboy said. "He used to be alright a few years ago but he's just gotten worse an' worse. He's dangerous. Even Angela ain't what she used to be, the whole family's a mess."

"I'll be okay." It was nice that he was worried about her, but she could take care of herself. She was a big girl – fourteen after all. "Not like I'm dating him or something."

"Yeah," Ponyboy said, "that's what you think."

Emma didn't know how to respond.

The two ended up wandering over to the DX gasoline station where both Steve and Sodapop were working today. Steve was in the garage like usual, covered in grease, half hidden underneath an old beater of a car. Sodapop was behind the front counter because the gas pumps were broken and they were waiting on someone to come and take a look at them.

"Stupid things," Sodapop said, ringing up two bottles of Pepsi for his brother and Emma. He stared at them, studied them for a minute or two, before turning to look intently at the two kids in front of his counter.

"Can y'all keep a secret?"

Emma nodded and Ponyboy said, "You know I can."

From his pocket Sodapop produced a well-worn piece of paper. It was a typed letter with a government stamp on the top. The second he saw it Ponyboy gasped but Emma tried to get a better look, not recognizing.

"Steve got one too. Came last week."

"What is it?"

Ponyboy looked close to tears but he was the one to answer anyway. "The draft, Emma. Sodapop got drafted."

"For Vietnam?" It was Emma's turn for wide eyes now. She didn't think any of these east side kids would get one. Daniel didn't have one; he said they weren't interested in people like that.

"We gotta go to the city in three weeks. Get checked out an' outfitted for trainin'."

"There has to be something you can do. You support your family!" Emma clenched her fists, feeling a little hysteric. "They can't just take you."

"I don't support nothin'," Sodapop said, and that was the truth. "Don't go tellin' anybody. Darry don't even know."

"When are you gonna tell him?" Ponyboy asked.

"Tonight I guess."

**x x x**

There was a lot for Emma to think about while she did her chores, folding laundry across the living room floor she swept ten minutes earlier. Pam was up in her room doing homework; Emma finished hers when she got home from her walk with Ponyboy. It really hadn't been much once she'd sat down in front of it. Margaret and Hanna were out shopping, and who knew – or cared – where Daniel was.

Sodapop and Steve were going to have to go fight a war. She couldn't believe it, not for a second. Sodapop Curtis wasn't the fighting type, hardly even liked rumbles unless he was backing up his brothers. He wasn't angry. He wasn't made for that; she could tell, and she'd only known him for a few months.

Steve had a lot of pent-up energy. He liked a fight. He liked being strong, showing that there was more to him than how fast he could lift a set of tires to sell later. He was lean but that made him fast. Would he be just as fast decked out in fatigues, with a gun in his hand and the enemy shooting at his heels?

She could have started crying if Pam's footsteps weren't creaking the stairs.

"I'm going out," she said airily, her hair curled and her legs showing. "If Dally comes by, tell him I'm with the girls."

A nerve in Emma's jaw jumped. "Where will you really be?"

Pam looked at her little sister like she was stupid. "With Curly? Duh."

"Why don't you just break up with Dallas if you're gonna keep two-timing him?" She didn't know why it bugged her so much. Dally slept around too, what was the big deal? He hardly even had a right to be so mad about it at the party like he was.

"I like the attention. You wouldn't know what it's like and you probably never will, but having so many men falling over themselves to be with you is the greatest. That's why I'm going to be a movie star, and you're probably going to be a waitress."

Emma looked back to the towels on the floor in front of her. "Rude."

Home alone now, Emma pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it to calm her shaking hands. Pam was such a primadonna, always the queen, always the centre of attention. But it struck a chord in Emma that she didn't even know existed – no boys. Maybe she was only fourteen, but by this time Pam had already had four boyfriends, and it sounded like Angela – and even Annie – had more attention than Emma could claim.

There was Tim though. Tim seemed to like her, at least as a friend. And having a friend in Tim Shepard was probably one of the safest things you could have around here. No one messed with Tim, not since he … well, did some bad things, they said. No one would tell her what but it all sounded very awful by their tones of voice.

Once the chores were done, Emma washed her hands and fixed her hair and locked the front door behind her. The cold air would clear her head and she could use it, after what Pam said. She really couldn't believe that her sister would say something like that to her – she wasn't cruel back in California.

Emma made it all the way to the end of the neighbourhood before she heard a single car rumble slowly up behind her. The streets were mostly empty at this time of night; families with parents tried to keep everyone together for short moments at dinner, and those without were at diners or drive-ins planning out their nights.

"Harris, right?"

Emma stopped to peer through the open passenger window. "Tim?"

Tim grinned and it crinkled his eyes a little. "Hop in, kid."


End file.
